by Roger Green
‘Are you free Englishmen and will raise no hand to save these poor youths?’ asked Robin.
‘There are twenty of the Sheriff’s guard, armed with swords,’ answered the yeoman sullenly. ‘Moreover most of us are known men – and if we raised a hand not only we, but our wives and children would suffer… And the youths have broken the law.’
Robin pushed his way right to the front. The crowd was crying shame upon the Sheriff, Prince John, and all Normans – and pity and encouragement to the prisoners. Robin shouted louder than anyone else, but his words were of hatred to the three law breakers.
Presently a man in a leather apron, obviously the executioner, strode past, and drew a wicked-looking iron shaped like a tuning fork from a brazier, and after deciding that it was hot enough, started back again towards the prisoners.
But by now the crowd had closed up even nearer. The executioner had almost to push his way. As he passed Robin, he tripped suddenly. Robin uttered a cry, lurched forward as if pushed from behind, and landed on the man’s back.
There was an awful yell, and the crowd drew away hastily as the captain of the guard strode forward with several of his men. Roughly they dragged Robin to his feet, and then the executioner. But the latter fell again, and writhed upon the ground – for the hot iron in his hand had burned a great red wound like the letter U on his face – and in falling Robin had broken several of his ribs.
‘Your noble worships!’ whined Robin. ‘The crowd pushed me – I fell – I could not help it. Oh, do not punish a poor beggar! Spare me, I pray!’
‘Hold him down and give him twenty strokes with a belt!’ ordered the captain. ‘Or stay. Fellow, you may go free if you perform the office of executioner in place of the man whom you have injured.’
‘Right willingly, oh right willingly, most noble sir!’ exclaimed Robin, while the crowd groaned, and then cursed him.
‘Make haste then,’ said the captain. ‘There will be trouble if we delay longer.’
‘Let me first see that the villains are well bound,’ said Robin, and picking up the bow which he was using as a staff, he limped towards the gallows to the base of which the three young men were lashed securely with thick ropes.
Robin examined each in turn, bending low over them and fingering the knots. Then, leaving his staff behind, he limped back to the brazier, picking up the iron as he went.
‘As soon as this iron’s white hot,’ he called out, ‘I’ll see that the right man gets it in the face!’
The captain then stood forward and once more read out the charge against the three men, the law which they had broken, the punishment appointed, and Prince John’s special charge as to its enforcement. Before he had finished Robin took the iron out of the fire and carried it all glowing hot towards the gallows, while a low murmur of hate and loathing rippled round the crowd.
Robin came to the foot of the gallows, raised the iron as if to press the points into the first man’s eyes – and then he turned suddenly, straightened himself up and hurled it with deadly accuracy into the face of the captain of the guard.
There was a moment of petrified silence and stillness, broken only by the captain’s yell of agony. During it Robin flung off the beggar’s coat, took up his bow, and had an arrow ready on the string as he cried in a ringing voice:
‘Freemen of England – make way for Robin Hood and his three new followers!’
‘Cut him down!’ cried the captain, staggering to his feet. Robin’s bowstring twanged, and the captain fell to the ground for the last time, an arrow in his heart. And even, it seemed, as the string twanged, there was another arrow waiting upon it.
Meanwhile the three prisoners had slipped their bonds, which Robin had untied while making pretence to secure them, and one of them leapt forward and snatched the sword and shield from the dead captain.
Now the guards made as if to attack Robin. But his bowstring twanged twice, and two more men lay dead – for at that range even chain mail could not withstand arrows sped by the surest hand that ever plucked bowstring. They hesitated, and while they did, the three young men charged upon them where the line was thinnest, broke through, and in a moment were lost in the crowd. Robin loosed one more arrow, and then the crowd received him too, and although no force or defiance were used, the guards could only push through the throng slowly – while Robin and the men whom he had rescued passed out and away into Sherwood Forest as if the hillside had been empty.
While all this was happening by Nottingham, Little John, dressed as a beggar and thirsting for revenge, was hastening through the forest paths in search of his late adversary.
He came up with him late in the afternoon in a little forest glade just off the high road. Here a fire had been lit, and round it sat three other beggars besides the man he was after – and one of these was deaf and dumb, one was blind, and one lacked a leg.
‘Good afternoon, my dear brethren,’ said Little John to the other three. ‘Glad am I to come upon so many of my own kind. I hope you have had better fortune today in the begging trade than I have had?’
‘Greetings, brother,’ said the lame man. ‘We have fared as well as we could hope, but yet we are beggars even as yourself, with scarce a penny piece between us.’
‘You have a villain and a traitor amongst you,’ said Little John, pointing to the beggar who was wearing his clothes. ‘That is no beggar, but a robber!’
‘I am as true a beggar as the rest,’ shouted the first beggar jumping to his feet. ‘And as well known as such from Berwick to Dover. It is this fellow who is the traitor and outlaw. Help me, good friends, and we’ll string him up to the nearest tree.’
But Little John was so mad with rage that his first blow laid the beggar on the ground before him – and he proceeded to give him the best thrashing he had ever had in his life.
Then he turned to the other three beggars, to find that they had drawn swords and knives and were about to attack him from behind.
‘Ah-ha!’ cried Little John. ‘More knaves to be beaten, are there!’
With that he knocked down the deaf-and-dumb beggar, and beat him until he shouted for mercy.
‘A miracle!’ laughed Little John. ‘The dumb speaks! Let me try whether the blind can see!’ He aimed a blow at the blind beggar, who had again come creeping up behind him with a long knife in his hand – and the fellow dodged the staff, only to be knocked head over heels with a blow from the other end of it.
Seeing this the one-legged beggar hastily let down his left leg, which was strapped up behind, and started to run away on two completely unmaimed limbs.
‘More miracles!’ shouted Little John, and with a few strides he overtook this beggar also and brought him to the ground.
Then having disarmed all four and tied their hands firmly behind them, Little John retrieved his own clothes and changed them for the filthy old coats and hats.
‘I’ll give up being a beggar,’ he said gravely, ‘my fortune has been so good today. Ah-ha, I heard the gold ring when I thrashed each one of you!’
So saying he ransacked the pockets, pouches, and bags of each beggar in turn, and counted out more than three hundred pounds in gold, most of this being hidden among the meal in the great bag worn by the first beggar he and Robin had met.
‘A good harvest,’ said Little John. ‘I have threshed my sheaves to some purpose – and they have indeed yielded golden grain! Stay you all here and mend your ways in future. I am off to make report to bold Robin Hood – who is indeed King of Sherwood.’
At the trysting tree in the secret glade Little John found Robin and a great throng of the outlaws sitting down to supper round the great fires.
‘Greetings, good master!’ he cried gaily. ‘How fared you as a beggar? Not better than I, I dare swear. For look you what I have got by my begging: three hundred pounds in gold!’
And with that he told the tale of the four beggars, amid laughter and cheers.
‘I am glad that insolent rogue got him a good thrashing,’ said Robin. ‘For he
was a low thief, and no honest beggar. But my gains are greater than yours, Little John. For see, as a beggar, I won three men’s lives – and here they are, three proper young men to draw a bow and strike a blow for freedom, for right, and for King Richard!’
All applauded this speech, and Little John was the first to admit that Robin had indeed proved the better beggar that day and won a more valuable booty than any hoard of gold.
13
Robin Hood and the Tanner
In Nottingham there lives a jolly tanner,
His name is Arthur-a-Bland;
There is nere a squire in Nottinghamshire
Dare bid bold Arthur stand.
BALLAD: Robin Hood and the Tanner
While Robin Hood gained many new followers by rescuing them from the cruelty of the Forest Laws or the tyranny of men like Guy of Gisborne and the Sheriff of Nottingham, many more came to seek him and offer their services as his fame grew greater.
But sometimes, as in the cases of Little John and Gilbert-of-the-White-Hand, Robin went out and won a new follower after testing his prowess in single combat – rather as King Arthur’s knights had done.
After Little John and Gilbert the most notable of these was Arthur-a-Bland, the yeoman whom Sir Richard of Legh had rescued at the archery contest in Barnsdale. Arthur was by profession a tanner, and he rode about the country trading in skins – buying them green from farmer or forester and selling them again, beautifully cured and dressed, to rich merchants or even to knights and their ladies.
On one such expedition he was riding along the high road to Nottingham when he met with Robin Hood.
Robin was wearing brown and green and carrying no bow but only a quarter-staff, passing himself off as a yeoman in search of work either as a farmer or a forester.
It was a lovely May day, and Arthur was singing as he went:
In Summer when the woods are bright
And leaves be large and long,
It is full merry in fair forest
To hear the small birds’ song.
Then Robin joined in, singing the second verse by himself:
To see the deer draw to the dale
And leave the hills’ high lea
And shadow them in the leaves so green
Under the greenwood tree.
And they both sang the third verse together:
It befell at Whitsuntide
Early in a May morning,
The sun up fair began to shine
And merrily birds to sing.
‘Well met, jolly fellow, well met!’ cried Robin.
‘And well met too on this day of song!’ answered Arthur-a-Bland.
‘You are a tanner, I take it?’ said Robin, turning and walking beside the other’s horse. ‘Ah, sad news indeed have I heard concerning a new law against all tanners.’
‘New law? Sad news?’ Arthur-a-Bland’s face fell and he looked suddenly anxious.
‘All tanners who drink too much ale and beer are to be set in the stocks,’ declared Robin, keeping a straight face with difficulty.
‘Drinking ale and beer! roared Arthur, nearly falling off his horse with laughter. ‘By the Mass, you’ll lose no freedom by that.’
‘Oh yes you will,’ said Robin. ‘You’ll lose the freedom of your legs. That is the law – of Nature!’
‘It is a freedom I’ll wager that you lose sooner than I do!’ laughed Arthur.
‘I’ll take your wager,’ said Robin. ‘Let us on to Nottingham… But tell me, what brings you by this forest road?’
‘A good ploy,’ said Arthur, ‘a new line of trade, ha-ha! There is a great reward offered for the capture of a bold, bad outlaw called Robin Hood. I have in my pocket a warrant for his arrest signed by the Sheriff of Nottingham. Why should I starve my way about the country buying and selling stinking skins, when by catching one mangy outlaw I might earn five hundred pounds?’
‘Why indeed!’ agreed Robin.
‘If you can help me to this capture,’ went on Arthur, ‘I’ll pay you well out of my reward. A hundred pounds, now: how would that be?’
‘Let me see your warrant,’ said Robin cautiously. ‘If it be well and truly drawn out, I will do the best I can to give you the chance you seek.’
‘No, no,’ answered Arthur. ‘I’ll trust it into no hand but mine own. I’ll have no man coming between me and my reward.’
‘Have it as you will,’ said Robin. ‘But let us make our bargain too. If I bring you where you may find this Robin Hood alone, unarmed and at your mercy, will you promise to pay me a hundred pounds?’
‘That I will,’ answered Arthur eagerly, and bound himself to it by a great oath.
‘Let us go to Nottingham then,’ said Robin. ‘I know of an inn on the edge of the forest where Robin Hood is often to be found. Indeed I can guarantee that he’ll be there today.’
Off they went accordingly, and before long came to the inn, where Robin managed to put in a secret word with the inn keeper while ordering both ale and wine.
‘We’ll drink, shall we not, while waiting for our man?’ said Robin. And Arthur agreed eagerly.
Very soon he showed that Robin’s joke about tanners was no more than the truth: the more wine and ale they called for, the more Arthur drank, and before long his legs had indeed lost their freedom, and he found it difficult to sit up even upon the floor.
‘Now, my fine fellow,’ said Robin. ‘You see me here, I have no weapon but a staff – and that leans over there against the wall. You, on the other hand, have a sword by your side, and the Sheriff’s warrant in your pocket… Now then, what about that hundred pounds?’
But Arthur-a-Bland only stared stupidly at him for a moment, and then fell slowly over on his side and lay there snoring loudly.
Robin undid his pouch and searched it. There he found only the warrant and ten silver pieces – so he left all there except the warrant, and taking up his staff walked quietly out of the inn, after a few more words with his friend the inn keeper.
Presently Arthur-a-Bland woke from his drunken slumbers, sat up, groaned, and after looking in his pouch, called for the inn keeper.
‘I have been robbed in your inn,’ he lamented. ‘I had here a warrant from the Sheriff of Nottingham that would have made my fortune: it was to capture a bold outlaw called Robin Hood. But now both warrant and reward are lost – and he that I thought my friend has robbed me of them.’
‘Why!’ cried the inn keeper with well-feigned surprise. ‘Did you not know that this friend of yours who was here only a little while since was none other than Robin Hood himself?’
‘Robin Hood!’ gasped Arthur. ‘Oh, he has tricked me handsomely! Had I but known! Well, I’ll not stay here while he escapes. Which way did he go?’
‘Along the road into the forest,’ answered the inn keeper. ‘And before you go, there is the little matter of the wine and ale that you and your friend have drunk… Ten shillings is what you owe me, and if you do not pay, I’ll lock you in my cellar until I can take you before the Justices.’
Sighing deeply, Arthur paid out all the money in his pouch, and then vowing a terrible vengeance on Robin Hood, he sprang up on his horse and cantered off into the forest.
It was late in the afternoon when he came up with Robin, who was striding along the road, swinging his staff and singing merrily.
‘Stand, you villain!’ bellowed Arthur. ‘Yield yourself up, or I’ll cut your head open with my sword!’
‘What knave have we here?’ asked Robin, turning round and raising his staff.
‘No knave,’ answered Arthur fiercely, ‘and that you shall soon know!’
‘Why, it’s my friend the tanner!’ cried Robin. ‘Welcome, my dear friend, welcome! Doubtless you have come to pay me the hundred pounds you owe me.’
‘Hundred pounds!’ gasped Arthur, purple with fury.
‘That was the sum,’ replied Robin gravely. ‘You promised it to me if I delivered Robin Hood to you unarmed and alone. Well, I did even so at the inn: fo
r I myself am Robin… But I think you were suffering under the tanners’ law of which I told you – for you showed no signs of rising up to arrest me!’
‘I’ll arrest you now, fast enough!’ shouted Arthur, and springing from his horse he drew his sword and rushed upon Robin – who, with a quick blow of his staff, sent it flying from his hand.
‘Fight fair,’ said Robin. ‘Go, cut you a staff such as mine, and we’ll see who is to do the arresting this day!’
Trembling with rage, Arthur-a-Bland rushed to the nearest thicket, cut himself a good oaken staff, and attacked Robin with such vigour that the crack and clatter of wood on wood echoed up and down the forest glades.
Once they paused for breath, and Robin remarked:
‘I think, friend, that my staff is longer than yours. Would you like me to measure them, and cut mine to your length?’
‘It matters not,’ said Arthur. ‘Mine’s a good eight feet of oak such as I use for knocking out a calf – and I’m sure it’s quite long enough to knock you out also!’
Then they went at it again, and very soon blood was trickling down both their faces. Robin raged round like a wild boar that has tasted blood, but Arthur stood in one place and laid on with his staff just as if he were a woodman splitting a log.
For nearly two hours they kept at it, exchanging many a hit, while the wood rang with the blows of staff on staff.
‘Come, hold your hand,’ panted Robin at last. ‘Let us end the quarrel. For neither of us will gain much by threshing the others’ bones into a bran-mash.’
‘I hunger still for my five hundred pounds,’ gasped Arthur. ‘Indeed, I must earn them, or I cannot pay the hundred which I owe to you!’
‘Come and join my merry band in Sherwood,’ said Robin. ‘I’ll promise that you’ll earn much more than five hundred pounds there – though I’ll see to it that you pay me your debt!’
Arthur-a-Bland still hesitated. ‘I am a free man,’ he said, ‘and a tanner of note. I made sure to tan your hide – and sell it to the Sheriff!’